The Allure of Language
by sushidei
Summary: Contrary to popular belief, America was far from monolingual. America/England


A/N: When looking up Icelandic on wikipedia, it saw that apparently it's spoken in America. Well hell, I've been living in America all my life and have heard tons of languages, but Icelandic hasn't been one of them. So I got curious, and for all the obscure languages I typed in, sure enough, it said there were people in America who spoke them. Isn't that kind of cool? Where I live, most people speak Spanish and Somali, but occassionally you can hear Arabic and Hindi as well. I'd love to see someone randomly speaking Icelandic though, I think I'd fangirl over them. And it started out about langauges, but by the end it was more about America's ass than anything. Sorry 'bout that... it kinda wrote itself.

DISCLAIMER: America, England, and America's ass don't belong to me.

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Contrary to popular belief, America was far from monolingual.

Of course, he didn't show it very often, but it would come out occasionally, laughing at a joke Holland told in Dutch, waving his arms excitedly as he spoke to Italy in Italian, or negotiating business deals with China in Mandarin.

America was made up of people of almost every country in the world, and with them came their cultures, languages, religions, and ideas. It was only natural that he should pick up the languages of his people, no matter how many there may be.

England knew his fair share of languages as well, though admittedly it was more for personal gain than immigration. Hindi, Cantonese, Arabic… the languages of the once-British empire were still known to the one who remembered it best. Linguistics was never something difficult to the island nation, but catching America speaking so many different languages fluently still left him dumbstruck, especially because the stupid dolt couldn't even seem to speak English, the language that should be best known to him, properly.

That's why when he saw America laughing with Iceland, a hand thrown round the smaller boy's shoulders, the smooth foreign sounds rolling seemingly effortlessly off his tongue, did he turn a bit towards them in his chair and listen in.

He tried not to show too much interest outwardly, though, to save him a conceited speech that America would surely give later about how "awesome" his linguistic abilities were, but he couldn't help himself, and soon was looking at the two younger nations. America didn't even need to pause to conjugate verbs, think of synonyms, or any of that, the language came to him naturally and he spoke it fluidly.

Giving the boy a pat on the back he said what England assumed to be a goodbye of some sort and turned away, just in time to meet gazes with the older nation.

Feeling his cheeks grow hot England quickly turned away, standing up and putting his notes back in their colour-coded folders.

America, however, refused to ignore the fact that he caught England practically staring at him with a look of reverence in his eyes. He grinned and stood up straighter, walking up to England and leaning over his shoulder to peek at his pink face.

"Just couldn't ignore my awesome, could you Iggy?" He said, his voice laced with sarcastic self-admiration.

England scoffed and shoved his folders in his briefcase. "Hardly," he answered, rolling his eyes.

America raised an eyebrow, then smirked. "Were you… _jealous_ then? Jealous that I was spending time with Ice?"

"Oh God _please_, you sound like Denmark," he said, turning around only to realise America had him cornered against the table. "Will you move, you insufferable git? I would like to be home at a decent hour tonight."

America pouted. "Come on, England!" He whined childishly, "tell me why you were staring at me! Were you admiring my ass or something else embarrassing you can't tell me?"

England's blush returned, and he was sure he could feel it right up to his bloody _ears_. "I—idiot! It was nothing like that!"

"Then why don't you tell me!" He paused and his face brightened, and England immediately had a sinking feeling fill his chest. "Alright, if you don't tell me I'm just going to assume it _was_ my ass, and—"

"Ugh, you're so--! So…!"

America leaned down so their noses were almost touching. He grinned and pecked a kiss to England's nose. "So what, Iggy?"

The shorter nation sighed and crossed his arms. "It was just you speaking Icelandic," he mumbled. "I didn't know you spoke it."

America straightened and scratched his head. "Really?" he said, and sounded a bit disappointed. "That was it?"

England rolled his eyes. "You actually thought I was admiring your ass?"

"You sure it was just the language? Because I have a pretty nice—"

England cut him off by grabbing his hand. "Yes, yes, we know. Now can we please _leave_?"

"So you admit I have a nice—"

"Oh shut it!"

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Review?


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